Spanish Summer
by Tahti
Summary: "Pineapple," she answers to the wordless question mark of his raised eyebrows. "Want a piece?"
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Long time no see!:) I've just been hit by sudden longing for Jack and I found this fic on my old laptop and decided to share. The story is actually complete, so I'll post the rest if there's interest._

"God, I just can't get enough of you!"

She heard the shower cabin door click open just before she felt his warmth as his strong body wrapped itself around her. The words he huffed into her hair carved into her skin like a knife goes into butter and his hand tangled in her wet hair. Just like every single time before and probably countless times to come, she felt herself go weak in the knees and lean into him, overcome by the rush of desire to be as close to him as humanly possible without crawling into his skin, to swallow him whole.

"I want you…" he whispered, "…want to be inside you," and she moaned, her body arching into the softest graze of his palms against her nipples. Few things make her as happy as his openly declared desire, his faith in their, in _her_ love allowing him to express the want and know that she will respond and return it. She'd always encouraged him to tell her exactly what he wants and then take it, craving the way it sets her on fire, makes her feel feminine and appreciated but most of all makes her ecstatic about his newly found reassurance that it's okay to ask for something for himself and that he won't be rejected. By that time, he had long known how the affirmation would affect her of course; how she would tilt her butt back seeking contact with his groin…

"I need to have you now!"

"So take me," she told him breathlessly, transfixed by the look of his large manly hands against her pale skin, cupping her breasts, kneading the soft flesh expertly, gliding down her belly, dipping in the folds between her legs when she parts them immediately without even realizing it. No other man has ever made her so wet in seconds and no other man evoked so much tenderness in her while at the same time waking her wildest, most animalistic instincts. There simply is no other man like Jack.

His lips brushed her shoulder, wandered up the curve of her throat and he turned her over in his arms.

"Baby, I don't mean to..." he searched for the right words, his eyes dark and sincere and she frowned, somewhat confused with his hesitation. "I don't ever want to make you feel… like an object," he said, "You're just so beautiful… You're too much to resist. I just can't help myself," he let out a self-depreciating chuckle, his hands tracing the curve of her waist.

"Jack!" She laughed because it was so him, the combination of a perfect gentleman, a sweet, well-mannered boy scout and a passionate carnal, wild beast she knows and loves. It's the bright side of his obsessive, intense temperament which she's determined to keep channeled into constructive sexual energy. "Are you apologizing for a perfectly healthy sex drive and for finding me attractive? For keeping your woman satisfied and happy?"

"I just…," he laughed with her, the absurdity hitting him. "You're so much more than your body to me, I hope you know that," the look in his eyes could melt stone, she thought then, the hair on his chest a temptation too strong to ignore for her too, her fingernails raking gently up and down his sternum. "You're everything to me…," he told her, suddenly overcome by emotion. "My best friend. My family…"

"Your internal organ," she ribbed on his earlier confession, making him smile.

"It's true. It feels that way. Like you're pumping blood into me that keeps me alive."

"Don't I love it when you get so poetic," she teased, hooking her arms around his neck. "And no Jack, I'm not your life-line, you are stronger than you give yourself credit for." Because as battered and bruised as his heart was, as fragile as the new balance was, she had known the day that she finally found the nerve to come see him at St. Sebastian's that he would be fine. His stubbornness and relentlessness had been toned down, humbled by a journey of self discovery, the addictions that nearly killed him, the defeat in which he accepted the failure of his relationships with women, the life-changing ordeals he'd been through, all of that forging his edginess into composure. He would be okay if she never came his way and she needs him to believe that he would still be fine if she was cut out of his life now because she knows she'd fall to pieces if he disappeared from hers.

"And in case you haven't noticed…", even standing on her toes she wouldn't be able to rub her nose against his if he didn't cooperate and lower his head. " _I_ am your woman. Your very own personal whore," she purred. "And I happen to find you hot, sexy and irresistible as well." She scraped his slightly overgrown trademark buzz cut hair where his perfectly shaped head met his neck. "I feel exactly the same way about you, baby," she assured, pulling her body flush against his sturdy frame. "So go ahead, objectify me all you want."

"All _you_ want," he mirrored her smile. "Just tell me if it's ever… too much," he welcomed her embrace, folded her in his arms, enveloping her in safety and love and pleasure. "Okay?"

"You tease," she grinned happily. "There is no _too much_ with you, Jack, I can't imagine not craving you like this every time I see you, all the time."

"Oh, so you objectify _me_?"

"You offended, stud?"

"Guess being a gorgeous woman's sextoy isn't such a bad purpose to serve for a guy, is it?" he murmured, touching his forehead to hers, his tone filled with affection and adoration.

"So do as I say and devour me and promise me to do that every time you feel like it," she enticed, pulling him into a deep kiss, wet from their tongues and the water falling down around them, as he cupped her ass and lifted her effortlessly until her legs wrapped around his hips.

That's what she recalls now, the shower that was supposed to shorten their pre-flight preparation time if taken together but instead nearly made them late for the plane. She takes a bite of a fresh pineapple ring and wipes the sticky juice running down her chin and dripping down on her bare stomach, cursing under her breath when she notices a stain on the delicate material of her white cotton tunic that's currently unbuttoned all the way down and contrasting, well, not with her pale body but with the black bikini. So much for crispy vacation elegance.

She glances over to Jack, sees his relaxed pose, sprawled over a lounge chair on their Spanish hotel terrace and flipping through a magazine for the few car geeks who can tell the difference between Ford Bronco seventies models by year of production, offering a lopsided smile when he turns his eyes to her, startled by her muffled _fuck_. Great, so much for ladylike too, but curiously enough, and very luckily for her, he happens to find her impulsive outbursts of whiny earthiness cute.

It's a couple of days into their perfectly peaceful vacation and she can't really be thrown by a trifle like that. She's been lulled into a state of serenity and enjoyment of their beautiful surrounding in a medieval town with lush early summer greenery and nothing but sunshine. She thinks of what Jack said once, how he appreciated, no, _loved_ their regular boring live. She knows to be grateful for it too, having been through her share of trouble when she swore by recklessness as her life philosophy, but what if he wakes up one day and just… doesn't see her anymore? What if she really becomes an internal organ to him, one that yes, is irreplaceable but also not particularly appreciated, what if he knows her too well for her to excite him anymore and what if the boring living really bores him, makes his life flat and joyless?

"Pineapple," she answers to the wordless question mark of his raised eyebrows. "Want a piece?"

She stretches her arm out even though she's across the room from him. How very typical that she chose the fruit for its apparent quality of making one's taste sweeter, regardless of gender. Yes, she wants to taste good to him, knows how much he loves eating her out, licking off her desire for him and claiming he's addicted to the stuff. She believes him because she feels the same about him so she's always willing and always ready.

But aren't men supposed to be all about the chase? The question won't go away as much as Jack tells her he appreciates a woman who knows what she wants and goes for it, as much as he complies with her seemingly insatiable appetite for sex and for him. Their quiet _family_ vacation and her eagerness in that shower and any other time… She strolls absent-mindedly towards him with the dripping fruit pieces in her palm and doesn't quite notice the way he looks at her now, his gaze darkened and focused, the hunger in it one she knows so well and one that's not for pineapple.

"Here," she holds a piece to his lips. Surprisingly (or not) his hand grasps her by the wrist and she feels the flat of his warm tongue licking between her fingers where the juice trickles down before he pulls her gently to stand between his legs and looks her all over in admiration.

"You know, I have no clue about fashion, but this whole thing..." she sees his eyes shift from her flimsy-panty-clad hips to the uncharacteristic frills decorating the neckline of her tunic, down the glistening path of juice from her collarbone to her navel before he looks back into her eyes. "There's something incredibly sensual about it."

She lets out a chuckle, because no, she wasn't trying for seductive. It's just a plain bikini and heat-shielding piece of cloth and fruit juice smeared all over because she's been a clumsy eater. As long as it works on sparking his fire… she's part amused and part turned on and lets him pull her closer yet, so that he can nuzzle her belly and tickle her navel with his stubble, his tongue dipping in.

His thumb draws a lazy circle over her hipbone, just skimming the little black garment, and her resolution to make him chase her falters, knowing what that mouth can do to her, what he patiently taught her to enjoy and lose herself in.

"You're not going to eat that?" She asks, her voice cracking from the rushed breath, the handful of fruit all but squished completely.

"Sure I am," he flashes her a wolfish grin, his hand squeezing her buttock lightly and brushing the sensitive crease where it meets her thigh. "Just move a little closer, baby."

"Pineapple, you horndog," she teases, the giggle turning into a lengthy sigh when the tickling on the inside of her forearm becomes a sensuous kiss. Because horndog is good, horndog is what she hopes he'll forever be with her.

"Doesn't get sweeter than my girl," he says and she knows it can't be true, not technically, but also that he means it, just like she does when she delights in his taste.

"It's supposed to make you sweet," she pops a piece into her mouth.

"Oh, so that's why you insist on feeding me the mash?" He laughs, humoring her and taking a bite.

"Hm…," she swallows down the fruit and wipes her palm across her belly. "Nah, doesn't get sweeter than my man," she bends down and kisses his pineapple flavored lips slowly, letting him suckle on her upper lip and almost losing her balance when he runs his tongue over the super sensitive Cupid's bow. He's such an exquisite kisser, it's an art in its own the way he never rushes through this part, each and every one of his kisses unique like a snowflake and yet all melting _her_ the same way every single time.

She's almost grateful for the rumble of her stomach just as she's about to give in completely, seduction techniques and maintaining some mystery in their sex life almost ready to be forgotten. Who cares with a lover like Jack, a lover she's addicted to and never wants to be cured of.

"You hungry?"

His languid but methodical caresses stop.

"Well… We were supposed to go for dinner…" She knows he would completely ignore it if it was his stomach demanding food but won't let her go without a proper meal.

"Damn, I thought I was just about to get mine," he smiles, his hands lingering on her, not letting her go, his best puppy eyes expression challenging her not to cave.

"Think of it as dessert," she smiles back, forcing herself to detangle from his arms, determined to prolong the tease and see where it can get her. "No dessert before dinner, didn't your mom ever tell you that?"

"I don't think that's what she meant."

"I'll let you take the bathroom first, you know I need my time," she chatters, turning on her heel and biting back a grin at his bemused, blinking eyes.

She's always been more than willing to ditch anything for sex with him, always been the one to coax him out of control, to break his restraint and reassure it's okay to lose it. Well, let it strain to the breaking point on its own this time…


	2. Chapter 2

She stops in her tracks for a few seconds when she sees him seated at the restaurant table, waiting for her, as asked specifically, to his priceless confusion about why suddenly she insists they arrange a date rather then go together for dinner like the well established couple that they are.

He looks like a magazine cover when he spots her and stands up buttoning the jacket of his dark tailor made suit in the automatic gesture of ingrained immaculate manners, a smile making his face literally glow from the inside.

God, he's _beautiful_. And all hers.

It's going to be one of those instances when people see them together and think how reassuring it is that a mere mortal like her can be of interest to a work of art like him, she thinks.

She straightens her back and goes for her best attempt of what she thinks may be graceful slow-motion amble, but of course she's been tripping all over her feet all her life and this time it's no different. The stilettos, the marble floor and her slight nervousness if she's handling the date thing right or if he'd just burst out laughing and want to go back to their comfortable routine, as fond of it as she is too... His hand steadies her immediately, of course, and pulls a chair out for her.

"Everyone is looking at you," he whispers, brushing his lips over her ear, his breath warm to the delicate skin where her silver earring is dangling.

"What? Why?!"

She panics, a dozens of reasons going through her head, involving either lipstick accidents or the hem of her dress being stuck in her panties before she remembers she didn't use lipstick and is not wearing any panties. But yes, she's tripped; not particularly glamorous, even if the place isn't a glitzy one either. "Not very appropriate, I know," she chuckles lightly, making herself as comfortable as she can without completely sabotaging her poised demeanor.

"It's because you look so amazing," he grins, his eyes sparkling and she relaxes, the genuine adoration shining in them chasing her innate insecurities away because if she looks good to him, it's all that matters.

"I meant to amaze you," she says, aware how the crimson of her dress plays up the pallor of her skin, the unique combination among the tanned tourists and the olive-skinned locals making it look almost edible. "Worked any?"

"I'm… I'm just the luckiest guy in the world," he says charmingly after a long pause.

He may not be much of a smooth talker, and it's one of the things she loves about him, but he's honest and if she can make him happy… There is nothing else she'd rather do.

"And it's not the dress." She knows it's not to diminish her effort with the outfit or careful styling of her hair and make up, just to tell her that he appreciates what's inside the most and wouldn't care if she turned up wearing a bin liner.

She smiles, grateful for his reassurance but also knowing better. A bin liner wouldn't drive him as crazy as the plunging neckline revealing just a hint of her most delicate tulle bra when she, oh how very romantically, leans in a fraction to hold his hand.

Jack interlaces their fingers in an extra tight grasp but doesn't say anything, making her grin mentally like mad because it is working, her however lame seduction method.

"What's the occasion?" Jack clears his throat, his eyes constantly drawn away from hers to below, she's not even sure he's aware of that. "Not your birthday… Did I miss an anniversary of the first… something?"

"Let's see… First kiss? First sex? First time you cooked for me? Pretty much happened all at once," she smiles. "First date? We never really dated…"

"No, you're right," he chuckles, but his expression becomes the frown of concern. "Did you miss that?"

It's her turn to laugh again. "The dancing around each other not knowing what to say or do and what the _social protocol_ for it is? Baby, I'm _so_ happy we managed to avoid that, we probably wouldn't be sitting here otherwise! It was a miracle!" Jack never knew the awkward, clueless Panda bear she used to turn into in dating situations, or where it was implied.

"Yeah, I was never very good at that part either."

But he made it easy for her being absolutely irresistible, both fuckable and lovable beyond the reach of any self-consciousness or timidity issue reach she's ever had.

"Oh, but you didn't have to be, lucky hot piece of ass. All the women here would happily throw themselves at you right now," she lowers her voice and leans yet closer towards him, the dress allowing him another glimpse of _dessert_. "And some of them men," she smirks.

"Wouldn't mind this woman jumping me right now, right here," he returns the tease, conveniently ignoring the last part.

"Patience, anticipation and self-restraint," she gives his knee a playful nudge under the table. "I know for a fact these concepts aren't completely foreign to you."

"Go ahead, have your glass of wine," he encourages, noticing her restless fingers.

They both know he doesn't crave it anymore, because he never drank for the extra buzz but to numb the pain. And even if she sometimes thinks that it would be okay for him to join her on the random beer or wine glass because the pain is gone now, she's learnt the hard way to play with fire like that.

He steers clear even of Advil for headaches that difficult procedures would induce, insisting on natural remedies, or more precisely his best and only one: her. Besides, she wants a completely clear head and zero mellowness for what she anticipates the night will end in.

"Nah, I'll keep you company with… What is that? Pineapple juice?!"

"Well, you did remind of if its… benefits…"

"You're cute when you're blushing, Jack!"

By the time she relishes her custom made fresh strawberry and Catalonian cheese dessert - because she can't choose between them - and she presses the juicy fruit to her lips in a kiss before feeding it to Jack, she can tell that he's getting eager to be alone with her, the brief touches when he allows his fingers to brush over her thighs up the hem of her dress or bring her fingertips to his lips instilling the longing like she has hoped they would.

Any other time, she'd cooperate and rush him upstairs, probably groping him on the way as much as she could because she is just as eager and it's taking everything she has to deny herself that candy, her mind set for once on the extra sweet payoff for the uncharacteristic self-control.

He still hasn't picked up on the intentional push and pull, not consciously, no comments about the unusual distance she's kept between them.

She makes a point to not instantly respond to the wet, luxuriant kiss placed in her palm, his tongue darting out and tickling the space between her fingers. Oh, he knows all the sensitive spots on her body; he has kissed each and every one a countless times, the map apparently as thorough as the one she has memorized of his body.

But to his credit, he doesn't use them as push-buttons, never goes through the moves with the purpose of rushing her, and when they do rush, it's because of the lust overflow consuming them both equally.

He's pure sex appeal; the way he looks at her, relaxed, appreciative, warm, but with predatory glimmer lurking in his narrowed, darkened gaze. Like he's growing impatient and is purposely curbing the urge, by well-practiced self control mechanism. Only that this particular urge doesn't have to be curbed; she wants him to indulge in it as much as she's enjoying the tingling of anticipation when she recognizes the tension in his otherwise elegant movements.

Keeping her own lust on a leash for now is enough of a torture.

She's made it more than clear to him repeatedly that he's the only man she could ever want, but tonight… Tonight she hopes that he's focused on nothing but her and that yes, if everyone is looking, he'll see that what they're looking at is his. And only ever his.

"Let's go back upstairs…"

She gasps into his mouth when she finds herself being pulled roughly against the plane of he beloved solid chest. His arm is unyielding around her waist and his tone bears the slight hint of impatience, but the nudge of his nose against her temple is playful and soft.

They are barely out of the restaurant lobby where he can finally unleash some of what feels like deliciously pent up desire without raising too many eyebrows. She bites back a smile, pleased with her little seduction game, letting herself sink into his warmth. There, the patch of skin just above his collar, where the left the top button of his shirt undone, his clean musky smell a promise of heaven and almost too much to resist... Almost.

She nuzzles the soft hair that peeks out before pressing a kiss to his neck.

"Let's go for a walk."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you for all the reviews, guys! I'm glad you're enjoying and I appreciate everyone's kind words. Like I said, the story has been written a long time ago, so it's really cheesy, but I've missed Jack too much to not share. :)  
_

* * *

"A walk?"

He sounds befuddled as she slips out of his embrace, the little frown and his blinking eyes making her want to kiss him breathless but instead she grabs his hand.

"Yeah, it's such a beautiful night!"

Truth is, she's not sure about the concept either as her stiletto slips a little on the cobblestone pavement, but she has been enjoying the push-pull too much to give in now. The candy will be _oh so_ much sweeter when she finally wraps her tongue around it...

"We're on vacation, Jack! We have all the time in the world," she smirks. "Could get some ice cream..."

"Babe -" he lets out a short laugh but follows her out into the lantern-lit little street, buzzing with the melodic foreign language and the relaxed vibe of unhurried lifestyle like only the cozy Southern old towns can evoke. "You don't even _like_ sweets. And we had dessert - "

"This is Spain! Of course we need to have ice cream," she grins.

She watches him rub his hand over his head as if reigning himself in, disappointment, embarrassment, confusion and annoyance, all crossing his handsome features as he casts a quick glance to the suggestive sway of her hips.

 _Oh, my poor baby_ , she wants to tell him, nearly sorry for what she's been doing to him, for once unsure about her intentions, why she's been teasing him all night only to play chaste and uninterested. _It'll be all good, it will be amazing._

He opts for dark chocolate. She mocks his unadventurous choice, wishing she could snap a picture of the look he shoots her, as if to say " _if only you didn't drag me here_." It is her favorite flavor too, and she gets a taste, opening her mouth in a request when he offers her the bowl to stick her spoon into.

The moan and the very intentional show she makes of licking the spoon clean have the desired effect of his gaze darkening just a little more and his posture both tensing and relaxing. He takes it as reassurance which is exactly how she means it, because there's no surprise but a delighted low groan followed by sure clasp of his hands on her lower back, pulling her flush with his body when she feeds him her melon sorbet off of her tongue.

"Let's go to the park," she murmurs into the kiss, the sensation of the molten cold tanginess and his hot mouth contradicting and seductive. It feels like the nerve endings she didn't know existed come to life.

"Okay," he whispers and she wonders through the haze of her sudden surge of lust if she's strong enough to resist the naughty allure of the idea that he's just clearly read into the words, but at the same time congratulating herself for setting his beautiful albeit obsessive mind on that one track where he seems oblivious to the surroundings and willing to cross boundaries already.

There air is charged between them as they stroll hand in hand, fingers interlaced tightly. She can feel it in the way his long legs take a half-step ahead of her before he evens it out immediately. In his monosyllabic answers to her random touristy comments. She can see it reflected in his quick but intense glances, the best kind spark. She loves the little smile dancing on his lips that tells her he's content and happy, as much as he's currently excited and expectant. She would not dream of denying him anything but she knows from experience that sometimes it pays off to delay the gratification...

It is a beautiful summer night.

The town's park smells like a botanic garden and a spice stand at the same time, affecting her already alert senses. She's well fed and not hungry for food but she loves sampling tastes and flavors, she's always been about experiencing the world with all her senses.

She feels Jack stop on their way uphill and pull her in for a soft kiss.

"Jack, we're in the middle of the sidewalk!" she teases, his caress tame enough to be appropriate in the middle of a playground.

"So now you're prudish?"

His fingertips trace her spine over the red silk up until he finds bare skin.

"There's no one here," he smiles and her hand finds its way underneath his immaculate tailor cut jacket, to hook her finger around the belt loop, just above the curve of his fine manly behind. She gives into the kiss, leans into him when his tongue slides deeper into her mouth, tasting only vaguely of ice cream and so wonderfully thorough, as he nips on her upper lip. Next thing she'll know, she'll be out of breath and out of control when his lips find that sensitive spot behind her ear -

"I need to take my shoes off..."

"What?!"

"I'm serious! My feet are killing me."

"Oh God!" He huffs, _thisclose_ to frustrated exasperation, but lets out a chuckle, releasing her from his arms.

She stifles a giggle, taking a step back, onto the lush lawn. He's too much of a gentleman to say anything and it's not like he's any good at deliberate seduction techniques either. His responses instinctual rather than premeditated, her mind flashes back to their first kiss, how she had to hit him over the head with it to make her intentions clear.

She leans herself against a tree, sliding her sandals off her feet and dangling them lazily on her fingers.

"Mmmm... Nothing like freshly cut grass under your feet. You should try it!"

"What, take my shoes off? No, thank you," he laughs, but closes the short distance between them, her pose hopefully inviting enough.

"Come on, live a little!" She teases, picturing her neat-freak man rolling up his prim suit trousers to fool around with her like a teenage boy.

"There are more fail-safe ways to be naughty," he mutters, a breath away from her, one arm blocking her at her side, rested securely against the rough trunk, the other hand just skimming the top of her thigh. There's a little flutter in her stomach as she delights in more and more upfront, _aggressive_ advances.

"We didn't come here to reconnect with nature, did we," he murmurs, the words and his warm breath tickle her collarbone deliciously as he dips his head while his fingers slowly and seemingly absently play with the fabric over her leg.

" _Weeeell..._ "

She feels him smile, grateful for the solid structure supporting her from behind or she may melt completely into those skillful lips and knowing hands.

"You've been driving me crazy today, baby."

He presses himself closer to her, rubs his chin into the soft skin down her neckline. He shaved before dinner but that never lasts for long and he knows just how much she loves the prickly texture.

"You're always so beautiful and sexy... But today - " The feeling of being trapped between his body and the hard place, it's making her resolution dissolve in waves and she suddenly can't comprehend how she could have been denying herself to lose herself in the bliss that is him. Because this is it, this exactly what she's been going for.

"Someone could see us..."

"So let them watch," he doesn't sound to be the least bothered and it makes her heart thump faster, makes her squeeze her thighs together feeling moisture gathering there.

"I love the way they looked at you in the restaurant. They look at you on the street... And all they can do is look. While I know how it tastes."

It's too much to resist the possessive declaration because _yes, it's all yours, baby!_ and she wraps her arms around his shoulders with a sound that's dangerously close to a moan, just as his fingers succeed to inch up the hem of her dress and settle on the unmistakable path up -

"It's much more public than a highway bay at 5am," she reminds, but her neck arches back and her hand relishes the shape of his head.

"I know the kinks in this pretty head," he trails kisses over the other collar bone, up to her lips. She smirks, before biting gently on his wet lower lip, amused how being referred to as a pretty head would outrage her otherwise but she doesn't mind him being a little corny. He doesn't know it, but he's just challenged her to keep the surprises coming and even as she's parting her legs ever so slightly, she's already decided her next move.

"Fuck!"

He grunts at the discovery that there's no panties. "You sat me through a three course dinner like this?!"

In a moment of complete and utter lack of control, to her delight, his hand loses all semblance of patience and purpose and he just cups her like it's a long lost treasure.

"What, would you bend me over the table and fuck me right there if you knew?"

She likes the mental image a lot and loves the look on his face as he stills, entertaining the idea, a glimpse of her fantasy that she's yet to reveal to him. Adoration and lust mingle in his eyes, sparkling in the dim light filtered through the leaves.

"You'd actually like that," he states, half surprised and half aroused, taking in what must be an openly wanton expression on her own face.

"Mmm..." she uses the moment of distraction to wriggle herself out of his hold. "Maybe."

She turns on her heel and in a flash, she's running down the lawn, clutching her shoes to her chest, giggling like a schoolgirl.

"Babe!"

"Catch me!"

And he's laughing too, the shock and confusion wearing off faster than she expected, catching up with her faster than she expected, but just as he grabs her arm and presses her to him, just as he's about to kiss her with the passion of a lover led and teased for entirely too long, she hears a group of what must be local college kids settling their wine bottles and paper cups on a nearby bench, ready for their party.

"We need to go," she's still catching her breath, feeling like she's back to college years herself.

"No. We'll just go back up there - "

"Jack!"

"What, it was perfectly secluded," he pleads, arms wrapped tight around her and refusing to move.

"They can move up there too!"

"They're college kids! Walking in on people having sex doesn't shock them."

"You wanted to have sex here?" She raises her eyebrows as far up as she can, pretending to be alarmed.

"You didn't?!"

She looks to her side, where the noise attracts her attention, seeing an elderly couple stroll down the alley.

"Well... if you want to get arrested..." she smiles sweetly, his hold on her loosening. "Patience, _loverboy_!"

"You've been teaching me all about it tonight," he sighs, but returns her smile and accepts her hand in his as she slips the painfully uncomfortable sandals back on.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Thanks again for the comments! I'm glad you're enjoying the little story. I had fun writing it. :) I should probably move up to M rating with this chapter, but I'll let it go for now. The next one will be M-rated._

 _Oh, and if anyone's interested, the exact place where they are is Girona, Spain. Completely underestimated as the usual gateway to Barcelona, but I'm definitely recommending it._

* * *

She bites back a grin to his surprised huff as his back collides with the elevator's mirrored wall as soon as the door clicks shut behind them and she attacks him hungrily, pressing him to the hard surface with her whole body.

There's a split second of hesitance before he responds. Apparently she's confused him enough between the no-underwear revelation and her casual rather than flirty chit chat as they made their way back to the hotel.

"There are probably cameras here -" Jack manages a murmur against her lips before she swallows his in a determined kiss that's really just as much about seduction as satisfying her own craving.

"It's hardly Ritz," she chuckles; when they chose a low-key but comfy place in the heart of the town for privacy, she didn't quite have that kind of privacy in mind, but it does pay off now.

"Besides..." she lets her hand relish the beloved warmth of his chest radiating through the fine cotton of his dress shirt... "Don't you think they've seen it all?"

"So have regular inhabitants of student dorms," he reminds, with a playful twinkle in his eyes, making her take a mental note to ask him later how _exactly_ does he know that. "What's with the mind changing?"

"I don't know, _Jack_..." she drawls his name, her fingers lazily tracing the cool metal of his belt buckle. In fact, she knows very well and her heart thumps in excitement and anticipation of the night. "Women change their mind for no reason, isn't that so?"

There's barely any space between them and anyone looking would not actually see her hand grabbing his still semi-hard length through his pants and squeezing lightly; poor thing must have had a pretty uncomfortable walk, she thinks. The slackening of his jaw is unmistakable.

"Would you let me do that here?"

"Do what?"

"Anything you want..."

In a flash, she's the one pressed to the cold glass and the change of air from playfulness to business means he holds her wrist still, breathing short, humid puffs against her face, his forehead pressed to hers.

"What are you trying to do to me?"

God, he's beautiful. So turned on and desperately holding on to the control that she's been challenging for hours now.

She can see her own reflection in the mirror, face flushed and lips parted, like an oversexed advertisement image, and his broad back, his tall silhouette towering over her. He's so breathtakingly handsome in his suit but there's all that warm skin, all that untamed strength and primal desire underneath it - "What is it that you want?"

 _You, to do what_ you _want, to unleash it all on me without asking,_ but telling him that would be counterproductive.

She knows that appealing to his instincts works much better than verbalizing that one particular desire.

"The answer is always the same... You," she tells him instead, wrapping her free hand around his shoulder for one more slow, wet kiss before the elevator stops with a ding.

"That's not our floor!"

"I know!" She grins, already out the door and striding up the ridiculously narrow stairway.

There's no way she could run up the stairs faster than him in her stilettos and she doesn't mean to. In fact, she means precisely to be caught by his arm and pressed up against a wall again, just like he does now, and for the kiss to resume where it was broke off, only greedier.

He's so good at that, making her dizzy with his lips and that talented tongue possessively reclaiming her mouth and hardly leaving her room to respond.

"You're not going anywhere this time, babe," he mutters, the grip on her forearm unyielding.

Good.

That's exactly what she's been aiming for.

Saying _no_ to him has never been an option, especially not in this... _fantasy? Role play game?_ that he's been unknowingly pulled into and she's just reassured him of her intentions but she can't resist the extra thrill of testing just how far gone he is and how much the control he's supposedly taking is really snapping -

"No?"

"No."

He states just as firmly as his hand clasps around hers and she could even be scared of the liquid fire in his darkened eyes if she didn't know what it promises. Without a word and more then willingly, she follows his steps down the corridor, the carpeted floor muffling the clacking of her heels, her fingers intertwined tightly with his and her breath hitching just a little because she can barely keep up with him.

She assumes he'll push her up against the nearest surface once inside the room, maybe even rip her dress at the seams when he can't get to her soon enough, but he exceeds her expectations.

"On the bed."

His voice is as firm and no-nonsense as in his work environment, the few times that she's witnessed it.

But there's the underlying tension, thick and fierce, and she can't move, mesmerized, watching him take off his dress jacket in a seemingly calm manner, to put it neatly away on a chair, followed by unbuttoning his cuffs... and stopping.

"On. The. Bed _._ Do I have to throw you there?"

This is going to be better than she imagined; she can't help the small smirk escaping as she dutifully arranges herself on the covers, wondering why he doesn't request she undresses... He shakes his head as soon as her hand reaches the zipper of her dress.

"That's for me to do. But not yet."

If he smoked, she's sure he'd take out a cigarette right now, the way he's watching her like she's an exceptionally good porn pictorial that he's preparing himself to delight in in an extended session. _Mhmm_... That's it, that's where she's wanted to push his limits -

"You've wanted me to chase you?"

He's standing at the foot of the bed now, so predatory and sexy and powerful... "So I have," suddenly he's hovering over her, having crawled on the bed, both arms planted firmly at her sides. "And I have caught you."

His smile is as triumphant as it is... reassuring, that he's giving her what she's wanted all along and yes, he's got that part correctly.

It's been for his sake - _don't men enjoy the chase?_ \- but what he's really giving her, he's not yet consciously aware of.

"You're all mine now."

She doesn't move when his coarse cheek brushes hers ever so slightly, his lips targeting the sensitive spot just below her ear, in a tantalizingly soft caress. She remains passive, letting the quickened pace of her breathing be the only indicator of how good it feels to be his prey, his prize, the object of his unadulterated desire, even if she's nothing but pure _want_.

"I'm going to enjoy you so much, baby..." He looks straight into her hooded eyes and she returns the little smile, because it really is her victory.

He's never asked for permission, technically, _thank God_ , they just clicked in bed on some deep instinctual level; she remembers their first time and how it didn't take him long to naturally take the lead and how it made her respond, open up to his touch. He's nothing but attentive and giving but he's never acted insecure in sex and she's sure he's never analyzed that, so she chooses to let her body do the talking rather than comment.

"You think you can walk around..."

As in slow motion, he's moving so gracefully, sitting up and separating her calves with his knee, his fingers slowly wandering up her leg, tracing the shape, stopping just where the red satin of her dress has bundled up against her thigh. "...half naked and get away with it?"

She shakes her head, the welcoming smile dancing on her lips.

 _Of course not. Hopefully not._ He's still playful, but there's no uncertainty in his tone, no pleading.

He sounds like a man whose mind is set on one single objective and she loves that she can bring this out, set him free from the reins of - otherwise admirable - courtesy and chivalry.

"I can't?"

"Look at you," she can feel his eyes travel up her body. "So sexy. And all mine..."

He doesn't have to tie her up for her arms to stretch above her head when he takes her feet in those expert hands to examine the sparkly sandals.

To hear him speak like that without having been asked to... She knows they've been together long enough for him to notice what does it for her, but this time it's not calculated to appeal to her kinks. It's earnest. His own desires speaking and she sinks deeper into the cushions with a sigh: there's nothing more arousing than her Jack claiming ownership of his woman.

"These stay on."

 _Anything you want_ , she'd say again if she wasn't so set on preserving the spell of his control both taking charge and being so beautifully abandoned, at the same time.

She watches him take off his own shoes, duly, before he comes back to his position straddling her legs. One long finger hitches up the hem of her dress, enough to just flash him what he sampled earlier and then he stops, seemingly saving the tastiest bite for last, in the anticipation exercise that she has been instigating all along.

"And these..", he guides her arms back down her sides to pull the straps of her dress down enough to catch the view of her nipples pebbled against the black tulle. "Have been tormenting me all night."

There's nothing she can do to suppress the moan when he bites lightly into the tender flesh, pretty lingerie be damned. She wouldn't mind if he tore it with his teeth right now.

Oh, she's already loving the slight soreness coming tomorrow, the reminder that he's been here, his sucking now on the verge of too intense, the wet hot spot he leaves tingling to the cool air. He lifts his head to just... look and the hunger and admiration in his eyes are like a drug to her.

"I don't know what I'd do if you didn't let me touch -"

Let him? She'd beg him if necessary! In fact, she loves begging him. She'd do that right now. But the hint that he _would_ anyway sends extra shivers down her spine even though she knows he'd never come close to disregarding a real protest.

"Jack..."

It comes out like _please_ and his hand settles on one bra-covered breast, the palm rubbing her nipple and he kisses her like he's never going to get enough of it.

She got so wet in the park and now she's sure she'll stain his dress pants, but he'll actually like that... One leg draping over his hip, she presses herself to his thigh, arching and rubbing until the hand on her breast clamps tighter.

" _Fuck!_ How wet you are..!"

And he's shifting, to reach under her dress, unable to prolong the foreplay or slow down.

She watches his eyes shut tight for a second when he cups her drenched folds firmly, the touch having no other purpose but reaffirmation and his delight taken in her body, which makes her inside muscles contract in joy.

She sees him lick his lips and decides there's really no time for that, as much as he may love it. Her hand finds what it's been looking for, his hard cock, hot to the touch through the layers of fabric.

"Show me, Jack. Show me how hard you are -"

"No, babe. This is my time to play. You've had yours."

"C'mon. You know you want it," she entices, running her hand up and down the beloved, strained part of him.

"I know exactly what I want." And he gives her a dazzling smile, pinning her hand to the bed. Ooh, feels good when he's so adamant...

"Then tell me, Jack, tell me and have it." _Take it._


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: _I apologize for the long wait for this last chapter. I'm very grateful for all the comments, I haven't expected this story to be so popular at all. Yes, this is the final chapter, and I'm a little sad to part with it..._

 _However, I have a couple of others similar to this one stashed away, I just need to edit them and hopefully post them soon. Thank you again for reading and reviewing!_

* * *

 _"Then tell me, Jack, tell me and have it." Take it._

She feels one long finger separate her lower lips and glide up and down, pressing at her entrance the way he knows it'll produce an undignified lustful whimper.

And then he rolls up her dress, exposing the heated flesh for a long hard look.

He brings his hand up to his mouth and she watches him watch her face as he slowly but thoroughly licks her juices off. She can smell it, smell her own need to have him anyway that she can as she's laying sprawled. Like a dish on his plate, motionless. Her heartbeat is racing; she'll take whatever he has to give.

He looks like he wants to dive in between her legs and devour her the way he likes to feast on her endlessly.

But when his gaze meets hers and his hand reaches for his belt, undoing it with purpose, she is struck by a new surge of excitement because he seems so swept by his own want and she's not sure if she wants to grab him by the hips and make him fuck her mouth or hurry him inside her or stay still, basking in the sweet surrender.

"Feed it to me," she whispers, watching the beautiful, already dripping cock spring out and his equally beautiful hand wrap around it for a deliberate stroke.

It's his turn to remain silent, as he swipes the glistening precum off to put it to her mouth with a small smirk. Oh, he knows how much she loves tasting him and has long stopped questioning what she gets out of it, his own bliss found in the flavors of her body the only persuasion he's ever needed.

"Mmmm...," she all but purrs, the intoxicating combination of whatever secret pheromone molecules making the saltiness not only addictive but turning her into a ball of pure sexual energy, into his own personal shameless slut with one thing on her mind only. As much as she's enjoyed sex before him, it's not about the act now but about the man who makes it safe to explore the fringe of her desire and act on her deepest hidden urges.

"Your cock, Jack, feed your cock to me."

"Not what I had in mind -"

"Do it!"

"You're making demands now?" His finger leaves a wet trail where he runs it down her jaw, her neck, across her stomach and back to her mound, fondling the patch of hair but not going any lower. Admittedly, she could do better at the submissive part.

"Please..."

If he's been determined not to comply, the pleading seems to tear at it.

She can tell there's as much of his innate need to give as there is delight found in being wanted with what borders on desperation. The struggle evident on his handsome features is priceless before the moment of hesitation passes and he moves up to level his crotch with her face.

Her tongue darts out just enough to flick across the reddened tip but she doesn't lift her head to suck him. She opens her mouth instead, staring into his eyes intently. He gets it, accepting the quiet invitation, like she's hoped he would. Giving in to the heat rising between them, coaxed into the seemingly overpowering position and pushing himself up inside with a tiny, experimental thrust, making her moan against the hot, swollen flesh. Her eyes stay trained on his all the time as she hopes to pour all her devotion into the look.

"God...! That's so fucking hot -!"

He grunts out and she loves the way he struggles to keep his eyes open and watch what clearly feels amazing and she wouldn't be able to stop the smug smirk if her mouth wasn't full of his penis being pushed in and out, shallow enough to not make her gag but deep enough to make her feel like his possession, his little _fuckdoll_ for the night.

"Mhmm..." she agrees with a vibrating murmur. Her hands find his backside and squeeze, trying to urge him further in -

And before she knows it, before she can surrender to the temptation of pushing him in and swallow him whole until he can't take it anymore, he's got her flipped on to her stomach, his body pinning her to the bed from behind, his long legs finding their way between her own, his breath on her ear, harsh and pressing.

"I know you love it like this -!"

 _Yes..!_

No words come out though, only a lengthy exhale when she feels his hand yank the fabric of her dress up her ass and then the weight of his warm cock seek her wet entrance.

He's right, of course. He knows her too well. Knows how to make her feel taken and powerless beneath him and how it revs her up. But it's the abrupt change of positions, the lack of assertion asked for, his assumption that this is what she wants...

It is, he knows it; the consent has always been granted. But what makes her fists grab the bedspread until her knuckles are white and moan like a porn superstar is his quick, decisive action. The naturally dominant move and his inability to resist giving into the temptation of what he loves just as much.

She hears him let out a breath of something akin to relief, like he's quenching long overdue thirst, as he's got her pinned down by the arms while spreading her legs wider for the very welcome intrusion.

His coarse chin scrapes her back and she lets the bliss take over and lose herself in the sensation of his strong body engulfing hers as he reclaims his right over it.

Not so gently this time, he bites into her shoulder, long familiar with her pride to parade the branding marks around. He's still wearing most of his clothes, and as so is she, she realizes when he tugs the straps of her dress and bra together roughly down her shoulders, pulling just enough to free her nipples for his pinching fingers.

The sounds she's making spur him on, his lips and teeth on her neck and shoulders, but his apparent ignorance of her arching body, silently asking to be filled already, is a sweet torture.

"You belong inside me," she whispers.

"You belong _to_ me."

She didn't think his entry could ever feel any better, but the possessive declaration coils inside her rapidly and snaps in a scream when he pushes inside her with ease. The rush of being wanted so much makes her head spin and let go completely, as much out of control at this point as Jack is.

"Do anything you want to me -"

"Am I not?" The next push goes deeper, but not faster. She knows he's relishing the connection as much as she is, the familiar rhythm no less exciting.

"Jack... Fuck me like you own me!" She breathes into the bedding, grateful for a man who can be trusted to have this kind of power handed over, whose love is letting her be as free as she's ever dreamt of.

"I am," he huffs. "And I love fucking you -!"

She responds with a surprised gasp: he's not much for talking during sex, usually only doing that by her request. She's suddenly dangerously close to tumbling over the edge already, realizing how worked up he is, far beyond his normal level of focus.

"My beautiful girl -" He grabs her hands in what may be an intimate gesture of closeness or a commanding one, meant to hold her down, his cock reaching inside her, stretching, pushing...

"Mine... and nobody else's!"

 _Of course_ , she'd tell him, if she wasn't overwhelmed by the pleasure of giving in to his raw intensity. The primal forces guiding her as much as him. His masculine textures and smells have never felt better.

"Yes- "she manages, thankful for the culmination of the night and eager to let him know how much she wants this. _Him._

"Make me yours, claim me - brand me, make everybody know...!"

She babbles in between rushed breathes, feeling his hand sneak down to cup her pussy where it's rubbing deliciously against the bed with every push but he's never liked indirect measures. _You're having sex with me, not a pillow or a kitchen counter,_ he told her once, making her giggle at the sweet determination.

His skillful fingers find the sweet spot of her nub, taking her higher and higher.

"Fuck me until I can't anymore - ", she tells him; _And then fuck me more, like you don't care_ , but she doesn't want to scare him or ruin the mood.

She almost wants it to hurt a little, just to keep feeling him inside when it's over.

And because in this moment, she wants to exist just for his pleasure, not her own, even if, ironically, that's the idea that makes her flood his pounding cock with a fresh surge of wetness.

"You're bossy for a cocktease, babe -!" His hot tongue licks along her hairline before his teeth sink into the side of her neck, sending a violent shiver through her whole body.

She twists her neck as best she can, hungry for the sight of his face, the instincts and emotion and his pleasure that reflect hers making him look so manly, his strength irresistible and his brown eyes displaying ferocity that she loves setting free in this healthiest, most constructive compulsive acts there is.

"Pull my hair!" she grunts, unexpectedly to herself.

She's pretty sure her eyes mirror the surprise and excitement mixing in his eyes when without having to be told twice, his hand leaves the warmth of her folds and twists around her tousled strands, yanking her head back to him. Her mouth falls open with the action, his tongue invading it immediately.

Maybe it's his confidence and the unhesitant, instinctual dominance to her complete submission in this position.

Maybe it's because she can't take as deep a breath as her accelerated heart rate requires and maybe it's the absolute trust she has in this man, but when she forces her eyes to stay open through the feral kiss, when his hand slides down to her throat, keeping her from dropping her head, she feels her body explode, her muscles pulsing around him and her blood pulsing inside her and for a few seconds she's blind and she's deaf, swimming in the overwhelming ecstasy, Jack's name being the only word she remembers.

He never stops or changes his pace, she realizes once the fog clears enough for her to see the fascination in his eyes and taste his breath in her mouth. Hundreds of times like this, and every single one he looks at her like she's a never before seen wonder -

"Come deep inside me, Jack..." she entices, "I need to feel you coming inside me -"

It's true.

The urge is stronger than her own need most of the times; he looks so sexy to her when he gives into his need... His orgasm triggering her own just by the emotional appeal and she knows her gaze must be just as mesmerized as his when she eggs him on, the raw need in her voice much more than simple encouragement.

And she recognizes the acceleration of his thrusts, the tension arresting his body as his eyes snap shut and there's no more words, just grunts and moans. Because _yes_ , when he lets go with one extra hard push, she's floating again, maybe never really having come down. New bliss sweeping her along, the carnal kind, slowly dissolving in all-encompassing love.

She smiles weakly, her eyes still closed, feeling and hearing his frantic breath calm down slowly, his sweaty forehead pressed to her temple.

A part of her longs for him to stay inside her until he can fuck her again so there's a slight jab of disappointment when he rolls off of her with a spent sigh.

But she's just as content to snuggle up to him.

"Where did that come from?" Jack's hand rubs his head in the unmistakable sign of frustration or agitation.

His stare into the ceiling confuses her momentarily, why one minute he was there with her, feeling as good as humanly possible, and another he's beating himself up for something... Only momentarily.

"Wherever it did...," she settles herself against his side, nuzzling his once crispy shirt now all damp with sweat and smelling like heaven to her. _Is this the right moment to explain to him where it came from and how she coaxed him into it?_ "Easily one of the best in my life."

She smiles up to his somewhat confused eyes.

It's clear he's enjoyed himself just the same but he's questioning now if it was right to...?

He hasn't met her yesterday and they've been passionate and out of control and engaging in power play before, but this time... She's pushed him into taking something before he was asked do so, taking it for himself as much as it was the exact pinnacle of her pleasure.

"Seriously?"

"Don't tell me it wasn't good for you," she gives his arm a playful nudge before nestling her head in the space between his shoulder and his chest.

"But -" his eyes wander down to where her breasts are squeezed awkwardly out of her bra, the elastic digging into the soft flesh. "God..." With new tenderness, his fingers caress a nipple and very gently, he pulls the garment down, tracing the red imprint.

"Did I not scream loud enough?" She rolls her eyes out.

"And yes, you're wearing to many clothes too," she grins, her fingers toying with the one little leftover shirt button as she snaps it open.

"It was amazing, baby," she murmurs. She knows that it's not guy-pride fishing for compliments; he deserves a little extra reassurance for being played and led beyond his comfort zone unwittingly. "You were amazing."

"The things you do to me -" he starts in a low voice, as if trying to explain himself.

"Shhh... Just give me a kiss," she smiles.

And he does, pulling her into him and kissing her like she's a miracle and he's a new believer, his full attention tuned into her, as if he just woke up.

"Men would kill for a woman like you," he looks at her in awe, finally returning her smile, the sparkle back in his beautiful eyes. "In fact... I'm pretty sure history knows cases like that."

"That's if a woman like me wouldn't kill them first," she bites on her lower lip, grinning and grazing his softening penis, still wet with their juices.

"Give me a few minutes, baby, and you can do anything you want to me," he chuckles to her raised eyebrow.

"A few minutes, huh? And you call _me_ insatiable?"

He laughs with her, gathering her almost fully on top of him, his warmth keeping her from cooling down as they lay in comfortable silence, Jack seemingly as much past the care about his once-immaculate disheveled clothing as she doesn't mind her dress getting all wrinkly.

"Thank you, Jack," her voice is quiet in the night air that still smells like sex, like both of them.

"You are thanking _me_?"

"For... everything."

"Baby," he turns to her, expression all serious and concerned. "There is never a need to thank me for loving you."

"No... I mean... Thank you for being that man who... makes it safe to be free in what I want."

Who doesn't judge and doesn't abuse and can be trusted to handle the power over her with gratitude and respect when it matters and reward it with passion and devotion. Never before him has she let herself indulge in letting go so fully. "Instincts are what they are -"

For a long moment, he studies her face, without a word.

"Thank you for the same." She has to blink back the tears welling up at the admission of being let in so deeply, of his acknowledgment of her complete acceptance and love. "I mean... being that woman."

And she laughs with him again, wrapped up in her marvel of a man, body and mind. This is going to be one incredible vacation.

 _The End_


End file.
